


Vongola's Champion

by bluegrass



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Sawada Tsunayoshi, Because Pokemon, But more efficient, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Drabble Collection, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Ninetales Chrome and Mukuro, Poke(lements) Tenth Generation Guardians, Pokemon Champion Tsuna, Reborn is still a hitman, Takes place in KHR world still, Team as Family, Vongola is still Mafia, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegrass/pseuds/bluegrass
Summary: A collection of written snapshots and snippets in the lives of Pokémon Champion Tsunayoshi and his Poké(lements).





	1. When weary spirits rest

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy. Leave a Kudos and comment if you enjoyed it!

** Mukuro and Chrome (Ninetales) **

Chrome rests her snout by the window frame, feeling strangely wistful as she watches the rain spill from the clouds like tears. The droplets trail down the glass pane with a Slowpoke's pace, only to have a fellow droplet push it to speed. Chrome's mismatched eyes follow the repetitive process absently, mind half present.

Mukuro is beside her in her head. Quite literally. She can see the avatar he chooses within their shared space this gloomy afternoon. He is in the form before they merged; lazily curled up and cloaked with pale golden fur. The male's relaxed state is oddly reassuring.

Chrome thinks he is beautiful like this, but she has never thought that their current body was ugly. Ninetales, from one variety to another, take pride in their appearance after all.

Formerly resting on her sides, Chrome shifts minutely. The low thrum of distant thunder is making her ears twitch so Chrome opts to move entirely. She attempts to stand lazily while Mukuro chooses the moment t0 open his ruby eyes and yawn.

"Going to Tsuna?" He asks with an expression that is entirely fond even on his vulpine face. Chrome hums, but it comes out more beastly than anything else. To be fair, it sounded way better in her head which was the point. "I want our fur brushed." She says once they've left their personal room.

Their body is an ever-shifting palate of shimmering ice and gold. Fur slightly wavy the way all arctic variants were and their eyes are halves to each his and her own- one side glowed like scarlet gems as the other sparkled with blue galaxies.

Mukuro brings himself to gain control of half their body. They make it work, after years of practice and necessity from Estraneo's detestable crutches. He is laughing by the time he can feel his paws touching the smooth wooden floor. "Kufufufu. I'll bring us there, dear Chrome."

The female's job now is to make sure their white-tipped tails don't drag too much. Not many know that with the sheer number they have, how difficult it gets to make sure they don't go knocking precious decor left and right.

As much of a freak they are in the wild, Mukuro and Chrome know of the exotic beauty they possess. Their male counterpart is strangely quiet during their way towards Tsuna's office, soft paws padding through the wide corridor with nary a sound.

They smell the stranger before they see him. His scent is thick with anxiety and he is sweating through the casual suit worse than a Goodra. Mukuro scoffs internally as a snarl threatens to pull at his lips when he spots the surprised eyes of the newest guest in their home.

It isn't hard to tell; the man is fascinated with the way they look. With the way his attention is entirely on them, seemingly forgetting that he is in (one of the many) manors of his boss. Softly, " _And_  new." Chrome adds, sidestepping slightly as she narrowly avoids the track of mud she is sure Lambo tracked in.

Mukuro agrees, the human is currently walking toward them; still sour but curious in the way humans often are when they think that Pokémon are creatures entitled to them once they are captured.

The female instinctively cringes with the thought of the disgusting human touching their treasured fur. Mukuro's own disdain is visible with the way their tails curl with irritatation. He doesn't even bother growling before he is summoning a Curse. Ready to unleash it upon the deserving, disrespectful soul if he dares to come even  _a meter closer-_

Chrome's hatred for humanity upon their territory is genetically ingrained and amplified from their time as a lab experiment; never forget that she is frightening in her hatred. But Mukuro's dark spite is even more dangerous because it reaches even further than being a lab Pokémon. Fire variant Ninetales can hold grudges over a broken house tile for a  **millennium**  so their hatred is an all-consuming sea.

Perhaps it is the rain that makes him so twitchy today, but Mukuro wants this man traumatised for coming into their home and invading their personal space- treating them like common goods.

(What right did they have to pull them away from their dens without reason? What is their human God to be so great as to take their Lives away forcefully?  _WHATWHAT **WHAT**_ )

"What do you think you're doing?!" An enraged voice calls from behind the stranger.

It is Chrome that flinches. Her ears flattening against their skull as she feels her heart drop. Mukuro mentally nips at her heels. "Tsuna will be on our side, dear Chrome." He smiles confidently. The female fox suddenly feels ashamed for even doubting that and thinking otherwise.

Their Trainer's eyes are practically scorching when he grabs hold of the man by the collar and throws him to the side that is impressive for Tsuna's unassuming petite figure. "One rule we have at the Vongola, Mr. Russo, is that we respect the Pokémon to not casually put our hands all over them. I'd appreciate it if you follow that rule especially if it may concern your life!"

Frantically, the man nods, squeaking like a Ratata. "Eek! Y-yes, b-boss. I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to— Please forgive me…!"

 _Kind as always_ , Mukuro flicks a tail as he brushes against Tsuna's leg. The male Ninetales wants so badly to raise a smug paw just for the sake of it and point out: "He looks more afraid over your crazed eyes than to listen to what you're saying, Tsuna."

Alas, Mukuro cannot, so he simply catches the man's anxiety soaked suit on fire instead. The new recruit is immediately panicking and rolling on the floor in an undignified matter before Chrome takes pity on him and freezes him into an ice statue instead.

The Vongola Decimo kneels on one knee, reaching at their eye level as he gently runs his hand through their silky fur. "He didn't touch you, did he?" Concern laces his voice.

Chrome takes control to give the man a thankful (and slightly apologetic- not that he'll know) lick to his face. Tsuna is scratching them behind the ears before he smiles cheerfully and says: "So, is it Chrome who wanted her fur brushed?"

For some reason, it never ceases to amaze Mukuro and Chrome how Tsuna can tell who moves the body that makes up the first Fairy-Ice-Fire hybrid Ninetales in Italy.


	2. When a raging storm finds home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! This one's pretty detailed compared to Mukuro and Chrome's chapter. I'm thinking of putting their past in another chapter (one day).
> 
> Warning: Brief mention of animal (Pokémon) abuse.

** Gokudera Hayato (Arcanine) **

First day in their meeting and Growlithe had noticed that his dame differed from his sister's. The Puppy Pokemon actually missed the days where breed actually mattered to him. The insignificant thought represented a time when life was actually good.

It didn’t take a genius to have noticed the difference between his former pack and the current one. Granted, his mother and he didn’t exactly count as a _pack_ – more of a passing local legend when they still roamed across China.

Cramped up in the stomach of the thing, they’d travelled from across the seas of Italy. Catered in huge floating metals the humans called a ‘ship’, it’d been the humans that provided food and water, mats to sleep in, and other Pokémon as company during their stay.

His dame had told him to stay his temper, to keep his bites soft and paws gentle. The only reason they could travel this smoothly was because everyone thought they belonged to someone else.

She nuzzled his neck during that particular story, like the idea of being bound in some round object of red and white was something good. As much of pup he’d been, Growlithe couldn’t find the appeal.

China was great. Mostly because wherever they went, people cooed at their breed. They praised the markings of his striped fur, adoration in their worshipful touches as they prayed for prosperity to fall upon them in this life.

Growlithe and he dame were purebreds, they mentioned in passing – untainted by any foreign blood. The Puppy Pokémon believed it, once upon a time, ignorant of the sorrowful looks his mother sent him. Her time was close.

She wouldn’t see to the trial her pup would encroach, hunting down a Fire Stone by his own accordance, so that he may grow as strong as she knew he would. Their tiny pack of two would be reduced to one.

Was it even a pack then? Lavina, for that was what her owner named her before she ran away, had taken one look at her pup rolling on his belly when the street pianist played his piece and chuffed. She shan’t leave her pup to fare this world alone.

Lesser of two evils, she huffed.

She took the young thing by his scruff and broke into a sprint. Faster than the average Rapidash, streaming the wide plains of city and nature alike. One leg after the other, Lavina ran and ran and ran, whistling wind running its song through her fur.

They stopped occasionally to rest and feed, but Lavina was running on borrowed time. She reeked of urgency that made Growlithe hold his bladder longer than usual. Tiny body seated on her light marigold back, the pup whimpered restlessly, tail pointed downwards.

They arrived just in time to board another ship. Disguised with practiced civility, Growlithe played _nice_ with the other Pokémon at the resting area. He humoured to chase a mischievous pack of young Poochyena and groomed the common pairs of frightened Starlings out of their frazzled feathers.

People and Pokémon loved the short tempered, but Chansey-like Growlithe. Latina hated how the fire in her chest started to come out in mere smokes.

Including the rest stops, their trip lasted for almost 2 months. By the end of it, trainers were looking high and low for the owner of the unfairly loveable Growlithe and his dame. They cursed a non-existent being, speaking of his or her irresponsibility. Not once had anyone seen the pair’s trainers. It was blasphemy!

Lavina guided her young pup with a kind of strange ease since the port. They wandered cities, taking in the new scents, sounds, and sights. Despite his excitement, Growlithe disliked how meals weren't consistent anymore, but stopped complaining when Lavina gave a warning growl. Fountain water tasted decent, at least.

The country side was a change compared to the towns and cities. Growlithe didn’t know what to feel of it. On one side, he had more space to prance around freely, unbound by strange rules of _no fire, no mindless sprinting_ on the streets. On the other side, his dame grew weaker and weaker by the day.

Less people meant less help, less science- Poke centres- or whatever the humans called it. Lavina couldn’t even run half the speed she once could. Growlithe was afraid.

Snout high in the air, Lavina’s fur shimmered weakly. Her scent of smoke and lavender was the only thing constant at this point. What was once thick and healthy eventually shed into something brittle and grey.

With grass that rivalled Growlithe’s own height surrounding them, the pair eventually stood before a large manor in the middle of an unfamiliar somewhere. Growlithe barked, anticipation and curiosity jumbling into one concentrated concoction.

Unbeknownst if it was a curse or blessing, Growlithe’s intelligence will have damned him for the rest of his long life. Because he’d known the moment something went wrong – well, not currently, but predictably later on in the future. The person who’d ran up to them smelling like greed and gold represented the first warning. The rest was history.

* * *

Growlithe would take the time to explain the second, third, or maybe even the fourth warning sign if he could, but timelessness had been part of the problem. As easy as it was to count the number of pulses his Heat Wave produced, Growlithe’s newest trainer was fucking evil.

The Fucker- because Bastard was what Growlithe _is_ \- loved little in this world. Yet, when he did, it existed to put every Pokémon in his possession in misery. They trained daily, to put it simply, without rest or any semblance of mercy.

The Puppy Pokémon detested the lifestyle. He’d been torn away from his mother screeching louder than any hysterical Whismur on that Arceus-damned ship from weeks ago.

He was a smart pup. Growlithe’s mind sorted the information quickly and neatly and he immediately understood that it’d be a long time before he saw his dame again. Or at all, because _yes, she’d been dying and he could do_ nothing _despite knowing about it._

Every day was torture. His throat hurt constantly from being subjected to electric shocks from the uncomfortable leather tight around his neck and because he had to breathe Flamethrower after Flamethrower after **Flamethrower**.

It’d almost _killed_ him when the Fucker also forced an inappropriately selected Firestone on him. Needless to say, the evolution was unsuccessful and Growlithe learned the move Outrage.

Moments of calm or pleasure were as brief as far as the duration of Leers went. The _friction_ produced when Growlithe was ordered to use Helping Hand contained more warmth than any scrap of affection the Fucker ever gave his team.

Fucker was one hell of a cold monster. Even icier than his pocket neighbour (when in battle) Froslass whose spite levels alone could knock out her opponent into their next evolution.

The begrudging sweetness his mother so adored disappeared faster than Fucker could spit out “Use Flamethrower!” during Growlithe’s stay in the accursed hellhole. It felt like how many Arceus-less years before anything changed from the rigid schedule of eat-train-battle-win-sleep.

Growlithe met his half-sister, Bianchi the Skorupi. Born of the same Ditto father, but of different mothers. She was bred for the sole purpose of her mother’s potent venom. Deadly even within and the community of selectively bred Bug and Poison Pokémon. Hayato decided she was Pack within the first painful week.

Because even if she kept Poison Stinging him, Growlithe couldn’t fault her conditioning. She’d be trained to sting everyone else but her trainer. Bianchi was _kind_ beyond her sting-happy tendencies and terrible reputation. She was the only one who tried to protect him by enduring blows from the Fucker when he was extra pissed at something.

Growlithe loved her, really, but stopping his health from automatically inflicting itself with the ‘poisoned’ status was a working progress. At least _someone_ was pleased at the building immunity. Growlithe swore to burn the Fucker alive one day.

After meeting his sister, things eventually siphoned back to the usual steps of eat-train-battle-win-sleep and repeat. Growlithe had been stewing in habitual anger at the world when _he_ came by.

The man who went by the name of Reborn had turned his and Bianchi’s life for the better.

Everything had been so quick. The ring of a phone-

The Fucker’s chug of alcohol down his throat.

The polite ring of a doorbell. _Ding~!._

The abused Kirlia danced.

Face shadowed by a weird hat- Fedora- Reborn dropped by equipped with Storm and Chaos in solid bodies. The hitman, Growlithe later learned, had some half-baked Kecleon on his shoulder that _winked_.

Proud Absol by his side, Reborn killed the Fucker without batting an eyelash. Growlithe tugged against his collar until he choked. He was unafraid while Bianchi looked enamoured. Flames swirling on his tongue, Growlithe saw black right after the careless spill of crimson red.

Growlithe continued to live beside his sister afterwards. He remained in the dark of what became of his fellow Pokémon and perhaps it only did good in contributing to the piling anger. Life with Reborn was better, certainly, and his sister loved it but Growlithe simply **couldn’t**.

Reborn was undoubtedly a good trainer. He provided for them, in care and lifestyle. The involvement of deaths Growlithe might not stain his pale (for a Growlithe, anyway) fur well, but Growlithe simply resigned to it like this dark life was all he’d ever amount to. He’d never thrive and it should’ve been okay.

That was before Reborn took one calculative glance at his useless student and passed Growlithe’s Poké Ball to Tsuna. Human and Pokémon had barely finished wrestling it out, and the boy had saved Growlithe from a careless mistake he’d made by spilling Fire Blast in a confined space.

“Having the loser serve under the winner is a Family Rule,” The baby hitman had said with a smirk. “Good job, Tsuna. He’s yours now, give him a name.”

Growlithe barely made a noise where he was cradled in his new owner’s arms. It was warm and he felt so, so precious. It smelled of cinnamon and smoke. Not the same as his mother. Different, but something he could see as home one day.

(“I’m sorry, pup.” Lavina pressed her wet nose against his side. “-- is not the best, but our kind was never meant to roam alone.”)

 _Hurry up!_ The Puppy Pokémon internally barked with desperation squeezing his throat _._ The scars there itched.

 _Hurry. Hurry. **Hurry**!_ _You’re different, I know. So let me follow you till the ends of this world_. _I will be whatever you want me to be and do whatever you want me to do. As long you stay by my side, my loyalty is yours to take._

_Never abandon me._

“I’m not looking for a Pokémon to s-serve me, per se,” Tsuna then chuckled nervously, eyes flashing a beautiful marigold. “I-If it’s okay with you, I’d like to be your f-friend from now on. P-please? I-I promise to treat you well.”

Cold, clammy fingers ran through Growlithe’s fur. They travelled from the space between his ears and down the spine. The wetness reminded him of his mother’s well-meaning tongue.                 

“Hiee- don’t move so much, you’re hurt! Umm- and y-you don’t have to fight if you d-don’t want to. **Hayato** , will you accept this name?”

_Yes, yes, yes._

Yes _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animals are not Pokemon (those that share animal-like physique and behaviors) and vice versa. Kind of like with us and monkeys - they may share a common ancestor with all that evolutionary stuff. As for those like Voltorb or Klink, who look like a non-living objects, more details will come out in future chapters. 
> 
> Extra (fun)fact: In some uncommon (not rare) cases, Pokemon and animal may pop out a hybrid. It depends, really. The mother and father have to make sense, though. No such thing as some whacky Insect-cat creature.


End file.
